of the wall no bigger than my head, and from this,
empty of visions, rayed the broken, brilliant beams.
There was silence from the cave below.
He had not stirred. I had not even heard the rustle of his
clothes.
Then the light moved. The flashing
disc began to slide, slowly, across the crystal wall. I was
shaking. I huddled closer to the sharp stones, trying to escape it.
There was nowhere to go. It advanced slowly round the curve. It
touched my shoulder, my head, and I ducked, cringing. The shadow of
my movement rushed across the globe, like a wind-eddy over a
pool.
The light stopped, retreated, fixed
glittering in its place. Then it went out. But the glow of the
candle, strangely, remained; an ordinary steady yellow glow beyond
the gap in the wall of my refuge.
"Come out." The man's voice, not loud,
not raised with shouted orders like my grandfather's, was clear and
brief with all the mystery of command. It never occurred to me to
disobey. I crept forward over the sharp crystals, and through the
gap. Then I slowly pulled myself upright on the ledge, my back
against the wall of the outer cave, the dagger ready in my right
hand, and looked down.
6
He stood between me and the candle, a
hugely tall figure (or so it seemed to me) in a long robe of some
brown homespun stuff. The candle made a nimbus of his hair, which
seemed to be grey, and he was bearded. I could not see his
expression, and his right hand was hidden in the folds of his
robe.
I waited, poised warily. He spoke
again, in the same tone. "Put up your dagger and come
down."
"When I see your right hand," I said.
He showed it, palm up. It was empty. He said gravely: "I am
unarmed."
"Then stand out of my way," I said,
and jumped. The cave was wide, and he was standing to one side of
it. My leap carried me three or four paces down the cave, and I was
past him and near the entrance before he could have moved more than
a step. But in fact he never moved at all. As I reached the mouth
of the cave and swept aside the hanging branches I heard him
laughing.
The sound brought me up short. I
turned. From here, in the light which now filled the cave, I saw
him clearly. He was old, with grey hair thinning on top and hanging
lank over his ears, and a straight growth of grey beard, roughly
trimmed. His hands were calloused and grained with dirt, but had
been fine, with long fingers. Now the old man's veins crawled and
knotted on them, distended like worms. But it was his face which
held me; it was thin, cavernous almost as a skull, with a high
domed forehead and bushy grey brows which came down jutting over
eyes where I could see no trace of age at all. These were closely
set, large, and of a curiously clear and swimming grey. His nose
was a thin beak; his mouth, lipless now, stretched wide with his
laughter over astonishingly good teeth. "Come back. There's no need
to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid." I dropped the boughs
back into place, and not without bravado walked towards him. I
stopped a few paces away. "Why should I be afraid of you? Do you
know who I am?" He regarded me for a moment, seeming to muse. "Let
me see you. Dark hair, dark eyes, the body of a dancer and the
manners of a young wolf...or should I say a young falcon?" My
dagger sank to my side. "Then you do know me?"
"Shall I say I knew you would come
someday, and today I knew there was someone here. What do you think
brought me back so early?"
"How did you know there was someone
here? Oh, of course, you saw the bats."
"Perhaps."
"Do they always go up like
that?"
"Only for strangers. Your dagger,
sir."
I put it back in my belt. "Nobody
calls me sir. I'm a bastard. That means I belong to myself, no one
else. My name's Merlin, but you knew that."
"And mine is Galapas. Are you
hungry?"
"Yes." But I said it dubiously,
thinking of the skull and the dead bats.
Disconcertingly, he understood. The
grey eyes twinkled. "Fruit and honey cakes? And sweet water from
the spring? What better fare would you get,
empty of visions, rayed the broken, brilliant beams.
There was silence from the cave below.
He had not stirred. I had not even heard the rustle of his
clothes.
Then the light moved. The flashing
disc began to slide, slowly, across the crystal wall. I was
shaking. I huddled closer to the sharp stones, trying to escape it.
There was nowhere to go. It advanced slowly round the curve. It
touched my shoulder, my head, and I ducked, cringing. The shadow of
my movement rushed across the globe, like a wind-eddy over a
pool.
The light stopped, retreated, fixed
glittering in its place. Then it went out. But the glow of the
candle, strangely, remained; an ordinary steady yellow glow beyond
the gap in the wall of my refuge.
"Come out." The man's voice, not loud,
not raised with shouted orders like my grandfather's, was clear and
brief with all the mystery of command. It never occurred to me to
disobey. I crept forward over the sharp crystals, and through the
gap. Then I slowly pulled myself upright on the ledge, my back
against the wall of the outer cave, the dagger ready in my right
hand, and looked down.
6
He stood between me and the candle, a
hugely tall figure (or so it seemed to me) in a long robe of some
brown homespun stuff. The candle made a nimbus of his hair, which
seemed to be grey, and he was bearded. I could not see his
expression, and his right hand was hidden in the folds of his
robe.
I waited, poised warily. He spoke
again, in the same tone. "Put up your dagger and come
down."
"When I see your right hand," I said.
He showed it, palm up. It was empty. He said gravely: "I am
unarmed."
"Then stand out of my way," I said,
and jumped. The cave was wide, and he was standing to one side of
it. My leap carried me three or four paces down the cave, and I was
past him and near the entrance before he could have moved more than
a step. But in fact he never moved at all. As I reached the mouth
of the cave and swept aside the hanging branches I heard him
laughing.
The sound brought me up short. I
turned. From here, in the light which now filled the cave, I saw
him clearly. He was old, with grey hair thinning on top and hanging
lank over his ears, and a straight growth of grey beard, roughly
trimmed. His hands were calloused and grained with dirt, but had
been fine, with long fingers. Now the old man's veins crawled and
knotted on them, distended like worms. But it was his face which
held me; it was thin, cavernous almost as a skull, with a high
domed forehead and bushy grey brows which came down jutting over
eyes where I could see no trace of age at all. These were closely
set, large, and of a curiously clear and swimming grey. His nose
was a thin beak; his mouth, lipless now, stretched wide with his
laughter over astonishingly good teeth. "Come back. There's no need
to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid." I dropped the boughs
back into place, and not without bravado walked towards him. I
stopped a few paces away. "Why should I be afraid of you? Do you
know who I am?" He regarded me for a moment, seeming to muse. "Let
me see you. Dark hair, dark eyes, the body of a dancer and the
manners of a young wolf...or should I say a young falcon?" My
dagger sank to my side. "Then you do know me?"
"Shall I say I knew you would come
someday, and today I knew there was someone here. What do you think
brought me back so early?"
"How did you know there was someone
here? Oh, of course, you saw the bats."
"Perhaps."
"Do they always go up like
that?"
"Only for strangers. Your dagger,
sir."
I put it back in my belt. "Nobody
calls me sir. I'm a bastard. That means I belong to myself, no one
else. My name's Merlin, but you knew that."
"And mine is Galapas. Are you
hungry?"
"Yes." But I said it dubiously,
thinking of the skull and the dead bats.
Disconcertingly, he understood. The
grey eyes twinkled. "Fruit and honey cakes? And sweet water from
the spring? What better fare would you get,
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